


One Night

by SwellDame



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Auction, Bachelor Party, Broken Engagement, F/M, Falling In Love, I'm Bad At Tagging, Rescue, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:30:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7435932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwellDame/pseuds/SwellDame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the scene in 2x08, what if Athos met Anne at a virgin auction a week before he was to marry Catherine? (Contains triggers of rape culture)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfiction contains triggers of rape culture / auction similar to the one in S2 Ep08.

Wrong alleyway. Wrong pick-pocket. Wrong man. Anne cursed herself as soon as the man caught her arm and she looked up into his cold gray eyes. It was Barteau, the sworn enemy of Sarazin. It was understood amongst the Paris underground that each had their own corners of the city and if either of their people were caught on the other’s territory, it was murder or worse. She  
must have lost her way in the dark. Anne never lost her way in the dark.

“ _Anne de Beuil,_ ” Barteau sneered, rotten breath making her stomach turn. “Sarazin’s little whore.” His grip grew tighter.

“Laissez-moi!” She tried to pull her arm free to no avail. Barteau just laughed as the small brunette began to struggle.

“You’ll fetch a fine price,” His statement made her blood turn cold. “That is to say if he hasn’t had you yet.”

“No one has _had_ me yet and no one ever will!” Anne fired back as Barteau fought with her for control. She tried to reach for her dagger but it was too late.

“Silence the bitch!” Barteau hollered as one of his goons approached her from behind. Then there was a sharp pain and blackness. 

It was the echoes of his ruthless laughter that brought Anne back with a gasp. She sat straight up with a few dozen pairs of eyes looking back at her. All girls ranging from a few years younger than she to a few years older than her. They were all dressed in long-sleeved white dresses, huddled in the other corner of the room.

“Where am I?” She asked to no reply. She looked down and saw that she was wearing the same dress they were - the long white sleeves that fell from her shoulders were made of a soft silk and it draped around her feet. If it weren’t for the situation she found herself in, Anne would have considered it a very fine dress. One she would have worn to a masquerade she would play in her  
head when she was too afraid of falling victim to nightmares again.

As she sat there for a few moments to gather her bearings, Anne went over the fight in her head again and again. She’s fought men larger than Barteau before and she always won.

 _Maybe I’m going soft?_ Anne shook her head, refusing to pity herself. _I have to get back to Sarazin. He’s going to kill me._

She looked around the room - it was white ornamented in gold. More gold than she had ever scene in her young life. But she didn’t have the time to admire it. She had to get out of here. Anne paid little attention to the other girls who were shuffling around her, crying and worst of all, praying. She pushed them aside and went to the windows but they were all locked from the outside.

 _At least they got something right._ She thought with a huff. She looked around the room as her eyes fell upon the pile of clothes in the corner. She rifled through them in hopes that if there wasn’t an escape, she could fight her way out if necessary. She just needed the right tool.

She sighed with relief when her hand grasped the delicate iron handle of her trusty dagger. In that moment, she did thank the gods for the sheer stupidity of Barteau’s men for not searching the clothing for weapons and confiscating it. She brought the handle to her lips and kissed it with reverence. She quickly smuggled the dagger into her sleeve.

“What’s your name?” A quiet voice came from behind her. Anne turned around and she was faced with a pretty blue-eyed, blonde girl a few inches shorter than her. “My name is Charlotte.”

“Anne.” She felt her lips curve into a smile as she replied. The girl seemed so young, like the urchins Anne would sometimes toss scraps too if she’d had a particularly successful night.

There was no time for anything else. By then, there was a noise at the door. The girls huddled closer together, save for Anne. She alone stood defiant, separate from everyone else, while Charlotte inched behind her. Anne clutched the handle of her dagger through her sleeve. It helped to keep her pulse steady and her mind clear.

The door opened to two of Barteau’s burly men. While one stood at the doorway, the other approached the girls in three long strides. Anne moved in front of them. She couldn’t have said why. Perhaps it was instinct — the strongest of their little pack taking a stand. The man looked down at her and laughed.

“Barteau told us about you.” He bent down low to meet with Anne’s eyes. He raised his hand and curled his fingers around one of her loose tendrils. She knew he was testing her, so she tried not to flinch or break eye contact with him. She did not show any fear.

“You are a fiesty one.” He grinned and straightened.

“Vite!” He barked, which made all of the girls jump, even Anne. He gestured mockingly for them to move, his eyes dark and dangerous. The girls lined up and made their way towards the door, with Anne in the lead.


	2. Chapter 2

In a week’s time Athos would be a married man. But at the moment, he was currently entertaining his friend Philippe in Paris for the night. The Comte’s friend was insistent upon showing him a good time in his last days of bachelorhood. Not that there would be anything to miss - Athos was never quite the Casanova Philippe or his brother Thomas were. His betrothed was Catherine de Garouville, a choice decided upon since they were children. Their marriage would join the two regions of their estates, essentially doubling their land and wealth.

With an exception of a few schoolboy crushes on other girls of his youth, Catherine was the only girl he had known his entire life. He certainly didn’t feel any overwhelming passion for the lady, and felt mostly ambivalent towards this supposed momentous event. It would be a good marriage, or so he was told, and so he happed it would be. It was the perfect arrangement for someone like Athos who wanted nothing complicated.

Now, if only he could survive one night in Paris with Philippe, that would be enough. His friend’s idea of fun was very different from his. In fact, if he thought about it long enough, Athos realized he didn’t have an idea of fun. But he didn’t suspect it would involve public drunkenness and gambling.

“Let us return to the inn, old friend.” Athos advised in a low voice as they stood on the street corner waiting for their carriage. He kept one steady hand on his friend’s arm to keep him upright.

“Nonsense. We’ve barely started.” Philippe smiled quite obscenely. “There’s one more place I must take you.”

Athos didn’t know why he acquiesced to his request but he did. He sighed, hauled his friend into the carriage, and let it drive them both off to Philippe’s destination.


	3. Chapter 3

There had to be no more than fifty men of nobility in the candlelit room to where the girls were brought. Anne’s stomach clenched at the etched, hard faces and lust-filled, beady eyes of the men dressed in rich velvets and silks, their elegant gestures not hiding from her their flushed expressions and nearly audible panting. In her experience, a wolf was a wolf no matter how disguised.

The girls were paraded into the room and lined up in front of the nobility, where Athos stood, uncomfortable. Now this was most certainly something in which he desired no part. He attempted to make a silent exit, cursing when Philippe grabbed him by the arm.

“What are you doing?” His drunken friend hissed, “You can’t leave.”

“I cannot be a part of this.” Athos replied, trying not to look at the girls so clearly shivering and frightened in their maiden’s white.

“It’s not illegal, Athos.” Philippe said with no shame, no remorse. “It’s the order of things.”

Athos swallowed hard. He had heard of these types of auctions before from his friends and other members of the nobility. But only in whispers, in quiet chuckles between men and boys when the women weren’t listening, or at least had the courtesy to pretend not to hear. He never considered the gravity of the situation until now.

“It may be but I don’t have to partake in it.” Athos shot back, holding his ground. Something about that felt good, felt more right than the polite smiling and preening his father had always attempted to school him in.

“I’m staying.” Philippe replied, with a roll of his eyes, and turned away as the auction began. The man in charge — Barteau, Philippe had said — stood up in front of the crowd and began his speech. The odious man was praising the rosy innocence of the latest crop, something about unplowed fields and the value of naiviete in a world of whores and jades. Athos was about to  
make another plea for his friend to leave, when his eyes fell on one of the girls. How he had not seen her before was a wonder in and of itself. She was a petite brunette, lovely beyond anything Athos had beheld. Ahead of the other cowed, trembling girls this one stuck out like a sore thumb. Her jaw had a tight, tough set to it. Vicious green eyes scanned the crowd of men before her, her  
body tensed with the kind of readiness Athos knew well from his own practice and not-so-practice fights. His breath got all caught up in his throat. She was a fearsome thing to behold.

“…We will start the bidding for…” Barteau pretended to look over the girls but Anne knew it was intentional when his gaze fell on her, “Anne.”

One of Barteau’s men pushed her forward to gain the most attention in the room.

“We will start the bidding at…twenty livres.” Barteau raised an eyebrow at her. Anne clutched her dagger, the blade biting into her skin. How she wished to cut his throat then and there.

All at once, men started to voice their bids. Anne felt fear overwhelm her. It swept over her body in a wave that challenged her not to tremble in front of them. It was a challenge not to before the licentious crowd.

“Forty!…Fifty!…Sixty livres!” It became a chorus of men shouting over one another. Her breath hitched up into her throat. She thought she might faint when the last bid landed on a thin, grey-haired old man standing in front of her. The room went silent.

Please someone… She silently prayed, wishing for once she had not so often disdained the thought of a benevolent God.

“Seventy livres!” A man’s voice came from the shadows in the back of the room. Anne gritted her teeth.

At least let me see him. Gradually two men moved through the crowd to the front.

“Eighty livres.” Philippe wagered against his friend.

“What are you doing?” Athos whispered.

“Making it interesting.” Philippe whispered with laughter in his voice. He wagged his eyebrows. “Everyone’s hypocrite once they see something they like.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then bid.”

“Ninety livres.” Athos countered.

“A hundred livres.” Philippe responded, a wide smile on his amused face.

“A hundred ten livres.” Athos wagered again. The two held still.

“Once…Twice…Sold!” Barteau announced. Philippe laughed and padded his friend on the back. “Have fun.” He winked and Athos glared at him as the rascal walked away.

Before Anne could protest, she was pushed into Athos’ arms. Trembling like a frightened fawn, Athos pulled her close to him, assuming that would help. How wrong he was. She shook like a leaf, closing her eyes and gripping the handle of her dagger harder.

He cupped her face in his hands and gently forced her to look at him, as if she were one of the young peasant children he found lost by the stream.

“Look at me.” He gently encouraged her and when she did, he whispered, “Don’t fear me.”

Anne knew that to live was to be constantly wary, every questioning. Trust was something bought and sold on the streets, a commodity to be exchanged for a specific amount of time for a certain price. Anne didn’t know what it was to be without fear. Something deep within her, long denied pushed to the surface as she gave her assent. And, amazingly, it was honest. She dimly nodded her head.

“Bien. Wait for me upstairs. I’ll be there shortly.” He smiled and Anne swore he was gentle and kind. She wanted to believe.


	4. Chapter 4

Anne let the dagger drop from her sleeve, catching it in her hand as she waited in the room by herself. She shook away the spark of hopefulness she felt downstairs. She couldn’t let her guard down now, of all places.

But she couldn’t help running her hand across the soft bedspread and along the tall, oak bedposts. It would seem appropriate for her to be exposed to how life was lived on the other side, even as she would be fighting to continue living on the streets. She wondered if it would ever change, if there would be a time for her to stop running, stop the need to survive. Was there anything else? Something more?

The rattling of the doorknob caught her attention and she swiftly moved to the space behind the door. Her newly bold heart kept telling her this man who bought her wouldn’t hurt her, but Anne steeled herself against it. Fools listened to their hearts.

As Athos opened the door, Anne moved to strike. Although she was small compared to his tall stature, she still managed to push him into the door with her blade to his throat.

“Mademoiselle,” Athos started but Anne was quick to interrupt.

“You will not touch me.”

“No,” Athos replied, trying to inch his way out from under her dagger, “I will not.”

“And you will let me go.” She made her voice as firm and as clear as she knew how.

Athos didn’t expect for his heart to clench around the thought of her leaving, of not seeing her ever again. Was he in love? Did he believe in love on sight? Or had he merely fallen victim to this place of decadence and infatuation?

“It’s what I was planning on doing.” He replied. “But first, I must speak with you. Now if you please…” He eyed her dagger still pressing against his Adam’s apple.

Anne moved her hand away and took a few steps back. She still pointed the dagger at him as she continued to move and put as much space between them as possible. She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. “But … what your friend said …”

“You weren’t supposed to hear it.” Athos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s an imbecile. You need not worry about him.”

“Let’s be clear, this isn’t a rescue.” Anne explained. Her voice was tight and insistent. She didn’t need to be rescued. Ever.

“Of course not. Just consider it help. From a friend.” He tried not to show an affected tone in his voice when he spoke of being a “friend.” He considered Catherine a “friend,” and Philippe a “friend.” He didn’t want this fiery young woman as a “friend.” He wanted something more, something he could only vaguely sense as he continued to gaze upon her, as if she knew the  
answer to this new found feeling.

A few moments of silenced passed between them as Athos moved to take a seat in the chair by the corner.

“Why me?” Anne finally asked.

He did his best to shrug. “I don’t know. I only felt compelled to…”

“Buy me?” She finished his sentence with bitterness.

“To know you.” He clarified. “Is Anne your real name?”

She hesitated before answering. Of course “Anne” was her real name but could she trust him with the rest of the truth? She was still not fully convinced that he was here to help her leave this place. Yet there went that strange tug at her heart again. She nodded.

“How did you come to be here?” He asked.

She stared at him, calculating what she should tell him. Should she tell him she was a pick-pocket and a thief? That it had been her way of life since her mother died when she was a child? Would he pity her and her sob story? While Anne’s existence might not properly be called living, at least it was an existence of her own terms. At least she wasn’t numb to it. Not like the other girls and women she’d known, or like the girls who were dragged here with her. Not like her mother, who’d succumbed to the trade in her body on the docks and alleyways. Anne tried to keep cool, to calculate. Would he take pity on her if he knew she was a criminal? Probably not. He was a man of privilege and wealth. This is what they did — the poor and hungry were there for them to make a mockery of when they were bored with their wives or fox-hunting or whatever it was that they did pass the time. Their morality was a code of the rich, something they only maintained because it was never truly tested. Men such as this couldn’t possibly sympathize with the plight of those born to ravenous need. No. No one was going to extend a hand to Sarazin’s honeypot thief. Her destiny was in her hands now. She would have to think of another way to gain this man’s sympathy if she wanted out of here untouched.

“Anne? Anne?” His soft voice brought her attention back to him.

“I was orphaned at a convent when I was a baby.” Anne swallowed. “I never knew my mother or my father, so I was raised there by the nuns. One day, a new priest arrived and I fell in love with him. Or so I thought. He promised to take me away and marry me. I was young and foolish enough to believe him and so we ran away one night.”

She paused and waited for her pathetic story to sink in. “Then he abandoned me soon after and I’ve been on the streets ever since, hungry and alone until these men kidnapped me and brought me here.”

“I am so sorry.” Athos finally spoke up, but Anne couldn’t tell if he meant it.

“It’s all the same to you though, isn’t?” She said softly, unable to hold herself back. “Do you acknowledge us at all? Or are these entertainments your only contact with the miserable unwashed masses?”

Athos shifted in his chair. She was judging him and he knew it the moment he sat down to have this conversation but the weight of her gaze was what he felt now.

“I confess, I never thought of the many of you I’ve passed in this city. But then again, I don’t frequent this city often enough either. I have never also never engaged in this kind of activity before, I promise you.” He felt the need to explain to her, but Anne rolled her eyes at him.

“That’s obvious by now.”

The walls may have been heavily decorated but they were thin. They had been talking as if they were the last two people in the world but the auction must have officially ended. For now, on each side of their room, they started to hear the shuffling of bodies and the low grown of voices. Anne couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of their situation. Athos quirked his eyebrow in  
her direction but she shook her head as if to tell him not to mind.

“Sleep?” He asked her, and then blushed red. His awkwardness was absurdly charming to her all of a sudden.

“If we can.” She noted with a little playfulness.

Yet neither of them moved. It was difficult for either of them to prepare for bed with a chorus of lust-filled moans and groans surrounded them. Anne felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. She looked down at the bedspread and traced imaginary shapes into the fabric with her finger. Athos shifted and stood up. The creak of the chair made her look up. He was taking off his cape  
and casually hanging it over the chair as if it was a normal routine of going to bed.

When Athos turned to her, her heart began to pound in her chest. He approached the bed while she held her breath and scrambled across to the side farthest from him. Her arm was reanimated as she grasped her dagger again.

“Just getting a pillow.” He soothed, his eyes dancing with laughter.

He’s laughing at me? Anne narrowed her eyes at him as he grabbed the pillow and sat back down into the chair.

“Do not worry M’lady. I will not disturb you tonight.” He adjusted the pillow behind his had and closed his eyes.

He couldn’t keep himself from peeking to watch her as she climbed beneath the bed covers. She didn’t lay down until her dagger was firmly placed under her pillow. When she was settled, Athos blew out the candle on the armoire and they both fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

“Anne, wake up.” Athos gently shook her. She sat up with a start. Her instinct kicked in and the dagger was in her hand, ready to draw. It was a habit of hers that she wished would die. After she remembered where she was, she looked to Athos who was adjusting his cape.

“We have to go now before everyone wakes up if you want to leave this place.” He explained, his back facing her.

“Where will you take me?” She asked as she moved out of the bed and adjusted her dress.

“Where ever you would like. The convent, perhaps?” He turned around and leaned against the wall. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor, refusing to look up at her. He was afraid of her answer because he was sure the place she had in mind possibly had nothing to do with him.

Anne quirked her head to the side. The impenetrable Comte de le Ferre suddenly looked very boyish as he braved to peer through his bangs at her. She slowly approached him, looking equally shy.

“You didn’t harm me.” She said in a small voice. Her fingers gently laced themselves in the folds of his shirt.

“No, of course not.” His voice matched her softness. “I would never harm you.”

Anne wasn’t sure of what to do next. She hadn’t done anything like this before, never stood this close to a man like this before; a closeness that didn’t involve her reaching into their pockets for their possessions, anyway. She tentatively raised her head, leaned in and brushed her lips against his before withdrawing. She blushed and bit her lip. She was about to step away when Athos lifted her face to his and kissed her again. It was a sweet and innocent kiss, much like the first one. When it was finished, Anne breathed,

“I’m coming with you.”

“Without question.” Athos said.

With no one awake at the moment of their departure, they didn’t have to answer to anybody as they fled into the early morning light. Once they climbed into the carriage and encountered Philippe it was a different story.

“Athos! What are you doing? You can’t bring her with us. It’s only supposed to be for a night. One night!” Philippe was hissing his words, looking at Anne as if she carried pestilence.

“Shut-up.” Athos snapped as he closed the carriage door and called to the driver to carry on.

“What are you going to do with the girl? What about Catherine?” His friend panicked, scurrying away from both of them, as if Athos had caught Anne’s disease. Anne’s eyes flashed to Athos.

“Catherine? Who’s she?” She demanded.

“Philippe, I told you to shut up.” He sighed as he turned to Anne. “No one.”

“Only your betrothed.” Philippe interjected.

“One more word and you will be walking home. It’s a three day’s journey between here and Rouen.” Athos growled. Philippe was unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of Athos’ temper. It scorched him into silence. Philippe threw his hands up in the air and pressed himself back into the darkness of his side of the carriage to sleep off his hangover.

“I will take care of it. I promise you.” Athos turned his attention to Anne once more. “You must trust me.”

She wanted to. This was all like a fairy tale to her, one her mother told her which made the memory harden her heart to forget. It is why deep inside that nagging voice told her to take care, to stay alert. Anne made a small nod. No harm in letting him believe.

Athos gave her a faint smile in return. Within, his heart was pounding furiously with terrible fear that he would lose her now she knew about Catherine. Athos had never been known to be impulsive. Indeed, it was often joked — at his expense — that all such forwardness and daring had gone to his brother, Thomas. Yet here he was, bringing home a strange woman he had only  
just met. And for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a reason to regret it.

It was when they were just outside of Paris that Athos noticed a sniffling coming from Anne’s side of the carriage. Her head was buried in the collar of his cape.

“Anne? Are you all right?” He asked but her reply consisted of more sniffling and a small wordless sob.

Filled with concern, he took her in his arms and turned her to face him.

“I will fix this. I promise you. I will not abandon you.” He whispered. Anne shook her head.

“I know you will. It’s not why I’m crying,” She wept, “They’re still there…They’re still back there…Charlotte!” Anne reduced herself to crying harder.

“Who’s Charlotte?” He asked as he pulled her closer.

“This girl I knew…A friend.” How strange, that she should feel so deeply for a girl she’d barely known. Never before had her shallow heart opened for the girls pimped out by Sarazin, or cut up in alleyways when they were too clumsy or unlucky to avoid those they owed. But now, all she could think about was Charlotte, poor innocent Charlotte.

“Athos, the things that must have happened to her last night. I shouldn’t have been spared.” Guilt? Anne questioned herself. She had never felt guilt before. Her eyes were frantic with fear in what to do with this unused emotion.

“Hush love,” Athos tried to sooth her by kissing her forehead, the word falling out like an endearment. The thought of those things happening to her … he shook them away, even as he advised her, “Don’t think of it now. You are as much of an innocent as she was. As the rest of them,” he emphasized, hoping Philippe was overhearing the conversation.

“No, you don’t understand – ” Anne started again before catching herself. She must control herself. He must never know the truth, if only to prolong this respite for as long as she could.

She gave into tears again, hiding her face in his shoulder to keep herself from saying anything more that would jeopardize her place. Athos remained silent, allowing her to cry until she finally stopped and fell asleep against his  
shoulder.

A few days later they arrived at the estate. When he walked into the foyer with Anne around his arm, Athos’ family was stunned. They had never expected Athos, their solid, shy son to bring home a mistress. But mistress would have been less of a shock than him announcing to them that he would take her as his wife as soon as possible.The news knocked his father back into his seat, and sent his mother clutching for her smelling salts. But no one was more shocked than Catherine, his erstwhile betrothed.

Athos tried to be kind to her, but his immediate marriage to Anne cut deep through all of the fantasies and dreams Catherine had of her future marriage to Athos. She had to abandon her heart’s desire and allowed it to turn cold instead. Catherine, for her part, saw nothing in the raven-haired beauty to like or respect. The pretty little parasite had wormed her way into their lives by either trickery or witchery, Catherine decided, and deserved to be eliminated. She had her suspicions about the lower-class tramp — something in the vixen’s story didn’t quite fit. Yet she couldn’t even hint of such a thing to Athos; the man hung on his wife’s every word.

Catherine had known Athos for years, and yet within weeks of their marriage, he and Anne were inseparable. Catherine didn’t need to speculate on the reason for that — she knew enough to gather what they had been doing when they came in from riding the grounds with mussed hair and intimate smiles. Such a state of affairs was intolerable. Catherine knew she had to change it soon, for Athos’ own sake. Quickly, and permanently.The rest of his family took to his new bride instantly — she had a charm that Athos’ old father joked was devilish, and a carefree manner that kindled a protective instinct in his gentle mother.

 

Thomas seemed to treat Anne respectfully enough when his brother was around, but his eyes roamed more greedily when he was not. Thomas’ attentions kept Anne’s heightened sense of protection she learned on the streets in check. She was seldom alone with him, preferring to be with Athos as much as possible. Whether it be out wandering the grounds, visiting his clever tenants, or sitting with him in the study where he took to helping her learn to read, they were always together.

But Anne herself was in a delirium of happiness, love washing her clear and pure and awakening a girl she’d thought long lost. Athos had become more than a man who lived up to his noble bearing; he had become her friend, her confidant, her lover. Born in the dark, dank city, she was unprepared for the warm of sunlight on her skin, the heady scent of flowers, the feel of grass at her back as she laid in sanctified lust with her lover.

Determined never to become like her mother and so scorning the stories of the whores and despoiled urchins around her, she was unprepared for the crashing tides of delicious abandon that she rode with Athos, shocked and delighted with the pure joy they took in each other.Yet still, when she was alone, she found herself melancholy. Sometimes, the nagging tug in her heart would return full force in their more quieter moments together and Anne would feel the guilt again. Guilt that she had happened to chance upon the only good-willed noble in Paris to fall in love with her and steal her away from her life of fear and crime. Unlike Charlotte.

If it was particularly cruel that day, it would tell her that Athos was not in love with her but the pitiful Anne she made up on the night they met. It would tell her that Charlotte should have been saved instead of she. But Anne would never confide her husband in these matters.When he asked about what made her brow furrow and unconsciously sigh in her corner of the study while she stared out the window at the broad oak tree, she allowed him to think there was nothing on her mind but her friend, Charlotte. Her heart still clenched around the thought of her at night when she would say a silent prayer of hope that Charlotte may have been equally as lucky as she.

There was a week where Athos traveled to Paris with Thomas under the guise of a business trip. In truth, he tagged along with his younger brother to try and find Charlotte. Thomas insisted he was visiting the city because he had urgent matters to take care of, matters which he would not discuss with Athos for any reason. But Athos preferred it that way. He didn’t care for much of what his brother did now. Athos started his search at the inn and searched from there, seeking a trail that could lead to whomever had bought the unfortunate girl.

As he rode through the streets and alleys, Athos now looked at the faces of the poor and the hungry girls he encountered. He recalled how Anne described Charlotte, but found it impossible to know if those he looked upon were indeed his wife’s friend. He thought he might have seen her one night while returning to the inn, but the woman disappeared into the darkness before Athos had the chance to call after her.

The brothers returned home once Thomas was finished. Athos would never reveal to his wife his failed attempt. However, he did swear to himself that if he ever were to witness such a case of debauchery again, he would end it and save whomever he could.


End file.
